At the End of an Orochi Drone
by redtrouble
Summary: As Dragan packs up his safe house in the Carpathian fangs, he waits for his secret society contact, Sonyah of the Dragon, to show up and confirm Emma is safe. A small follow-up scene to Issue: 7 - A Dream to Kill.


Dragan Dzoavich was preparing to leave. He was piling the last few crates of equipment into the truck and getting ready to close the safe house down. Where was that last recon drone? Damn things were so unreliable. Dragan pounded a fist on the rim of the last crate, cursing his lack of time. Truthfully, he didn't give a damn about the drone. In fact, he was sure it was dead in the snow. The drone was just an excuse to wait for her. He had wanted her to come. He had wanted to know the job was done. That Emma was safe. But he had waited as long as he could.

_Of course Emma is safe_, he told himself. There was no way that Sonyah would fail her. So why hadn't she come?

He gave up packing and hoisted one of the heavy crates, walking it across the snowy yard to the white truck parked outside of the safe house. It was a log cabin in the woods, nestled among the Carpathian Fangs. The lights from inside illuminated the pale yard, his tracks, and the snow that lightly dusted the last bit of his equipment. He slid the crate into the bed of the truck and retraced his steps to finish disassembling the surveillance equipment and load it in the storage container.

A recon drone suddenly appeared, fluttering through the trees. It was the last scout to return, but it had been hours overdue. Destroyed, he had assumed. Lost to the weather, to the wildlife, but lost indefinitely. He had given up on it. And yet here it was, blue lights gleaming and machinery humming. He reached out to it and that's when he saw the movement in the trees from where the drone had come. Sonyah emerged from the firs beneath a heavy, low-hanging branch, needles releasing the heap of snow piled on top of it. She paused when she saw him long enough to pull the wrap around her face down to her neck and give him a small, brief smile.

So she had found his lost drone and followed it back to him. That was how they had met. And now it was how they would part.

"I knew you'd come," he said. "About time. It's done, then? Emma is safe?" Sonyah nodded as she crossed over to him. "Good. I knew you'd come through. And the little guy?" he asked, referring to the teddy bear. "They're together again?" Another nod. "Good."

Dragan studied the woman before him. Sonyah. She was not a woman of many words. In fact, she rarely spoke with her voice… just her eyes. Those clear, red eyes. Eyes like rubies. She looked at him and he spoke, as if prompted, and there was nothing uncomfortable or awkward about it. Had she ever spoken to him? No. He didn't even know if she could speak. It didn't matter. She had red hair that matched her eyes and fair skin that looked pale in the snow, and he thought she was beautiful. He had thought so from the moment he laid eyes on her. But she was deadly, full to the brim with anima and immortality and Gaia, and he could see in her eyes that as beautiful as she was, she was also so very dangerous.

"Thank you," he said sincerely. There was a hint of a smile at the corners of her lips. "Then my work here is done."

She watched him pack up the last crate with the remaining surveillance equipment—all but that last drone that meandered around absentmindedly.

"A team will be sent in to deal with the aftermath," he explained. "I'll be reassigned. I'd keep you out of the report but I'm sure brass has full details already. It's not possible—keeping something as big as you out of the loop."

He twisted the butterfly locks into the secure position and turned away. Suddenly there was a hand on his arm stopping him, fingers curled around his battle armor. He looked back over his shoulder and saw her staring at him—staring so intensely it was as if he wasn't wearing the shades.

"What?" he asked, studying her eyes, but he couldn't tell what she was thinking. "What is it?"

"Everywhere I go, I see Orochi corpses," she said, causing him to go still in shock.

"What are you—" he began but stopped himself when he realized what she was really getting at. "You're worried," he surmised, turning to face her. "Why?" But she just frowned and stared at him. "Could it be that you care, Sonyah?" he asked as he reached out to touch her cheek, feeling a grin form on his lips.

She looked past his sunglasses and into his eyes. "I don't want to find your corpse in a compromised Orochi outpost, Dragan," she said seriously.

"I can handle myself," he told her. "I've been a soldier longer than I've been Orochi, and a long run as both. You don't have to worry about me."

"Ghost." She waited for his reaction and probably got was she was expecting. He was surprised as hell. _How did she know? No, it doesn't matter_. He had a dossier on her as well. "You're a good man," she said, voice softening.

"So I should run off and join the Dragon?" he asked and shook his head. "I may not be like you, but that doesn't make me incompetent. Maybe I don't have all the answers or know all the truths. I told you before—I'm just a soldier, and the one thing I can do is survive."

Once again, all she did was stare at him, but this time he could read her expression. She wasn't convinced, but not because she didn't think he had the skill. It wasn't because she thought he was incapable, but rather that serving the Orochi was a death sentence. _Everywhere I go, I see Orochi corpses_. Looking in her eyes, he could almost see the horrifying images she had—of bodies pinned to walls and slumped in bloody piles over desks and in corners. Massacre. Orochi massacre. He had to admit, the Orochi didn't have a good track record. He was the only survivor of the Carpathian outfit. She knew it. It took skill to get out of the fire, but unless you stayed out it was all for nothing.

Yeah. He got the message.

Dragan touched her hand that still clung to his armor. Her concern meant a lot to him. He remembered how it had felt earning her trust, and this moment far surpassed that one. As he looked up, he noticed it started snowing again.

"I can't walk away," he told her. "But I don't plan on dying. I told you not to worry, but it doesn't seem fair, does it? You can't die. I know you'll be all right." He looked at his hand on top of hers clinging to his armor. He thought that right then he would really like to kiss her. He looked into her eyes and wondered if she would let him. This show of concern was more than she had ever shown him before. Like she truly cared. When he had said it before, he'd mostly been teasing her. Now, he thought it might be true. "You care, Sonyah?" he asked seriously. She just looked at him with that unwavering gaze. He thought of Lidya, of that tangled past, and remembered who he was and who this woman before him was and knew he was getting caught up in the moment. He shook his head and stepped away from her. "Look, I've dated secret society girls before and, between the distance and betrayals, it was more trouble than it was worth." He hoisted the last crate. "Thanks for what you did. For Emma. I'm sure we'll cross paths again."

He felt her eyes on his back as he walked the tracks back to his truck, the freshly fallen snow crunching under his boots. This wasn't the right thing to do and it wasn't the wrong thing to do, just the best thing. Getting caught up in a woman like Lidya again—no, not Lidya. Sonyah was nothing like Lidya. Lidya had always been a mystery, half woman and half spy; he had known better even then. Sonyah was honest. Everything about her was honest. He saw it in her work. But that didn't make getting involved a good idea. What was a good idea? Working for the Orochi? Fighting the Filth? Digging into the Breach?

He was halfway to his truck when he stopped and dropped the crate with a heavy thunk. Snow puffed up around his knees.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe the Orochi is a death sentence." Dragan turned to look at her. "If I'm going to die soon, there's something I have to do."

The next moment would either be the best in his life or his last. He marched up to her, cupped her cheeks in his palms, and kissed her. She could stop him if she wanted to—he knew she could.

But she didn't.

Dragan wrapped his arm around her waist and squeezed her against him, kissing her deeper. As the snow fell and settled on their heads and shoulders, he felt himself succumbing to the warmth of her mouth. There was a fire in his belly so hot that he couldn't feel the cold around them. Then he pulled back, their breath quickened, and looked into her eyes. Those red eyes were fearless. He grinned and brushed her pale cheek with his thumb.

"Keep the drone," he murmured, "and let's meet again."

The very small smile he saw briefly appear on her lips promised that they would. Dragan loaded the last crate into his truck, tossed her the keys to the cabin, and steered onto the mountain path. He checked his rearview mirror before the trees swallowed up the clearing. She stood there watching him go, the light reflecting in her red eyes, and the drone wandered aimlessly around her.


End file.
